


Three Women Percy Blakeney Loved and One Whom He Adored

by AlexElizabeth



Category: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexElizabeth/pseuds/AlexElizabeth
Summary: Four vignettes in Percy's life, spanning approximately 1779 - 1801.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



I.  
Lady Blakeney sat in her boudoir overlooking the Vltava river. Her pale white arms were wrapped in a heavy silk garment, for she found the April night chilly, but the window was open. Lady Blakeney insisted upon breathing the fresh air, and her doting husband and young son did not protest this fancy.

“You must go to the theatre tonight, Percy,” said her ladyship. 

“Nay, Mother, I’ll stay here tonight.”

“Percy, I insist. You must amuse yourself. You’ll be back at school soon, won’t you? I want you to amuse yourself while you can.” Her ladyship looked rather vaguely about the room, her eyes unfocused although her son stood only a few feet away from her.

“I didn’t come to Prague to see the theatre, Mother,” Percy insisted. “I came to see you and Father. You look well,” he continued, a look of earnestness on his face. “Are you feeling better than last I saw you? I remember you were unwell.”

“I don’t know precisely,” Lady Blakeney replied. “Sir Algernon tells me I am often unwell, but I don’t remember…my thoughts seem very clouded. I forget things.” She rubbed her forehead fretfully. “I think I really must see a doctor, but Sir Algernon tells me I have seen one, I have seen dozens, and they do no good. He is impatient with the doctors. It is not their fault they cannot cure me. I feel sure I ought to see a doctor, though. Perhaps if I were to be bled…”

Percy crossed the room in a few strides and dropped to his knees beside his mother’s couch. “I don’t think bleeding will help, Mother.” He took her hand in his. Her skin felt cold and her fingers did not respond to his clasp. “I would do anything— _anything_ , do you hear?—to cure your illness. Oh, Mother! How I wish you were well! It breaks my heart to see you suffering.”

Lady Blakeney had not turned her head when her son came to her side. She was gazing out of the window, down to the twinkling lights reflected in the river’s surface. Finally she tore her head away from these fairy visions and looked at her son in mild surprise. “Whatever are you talking about, Percy? I am perfectly well. We are going to the theatre tonight. Go and change, son. We shan’t want to be late.”

“We’re not going to the theatre,” Percy insisted. “Don’t you remember, Mother? You never go out. You’ll stay the evening here, and I wish to stay with you.”

“Nonsene! Your father has ordered a carriage. I am sure it will be here any moment. You must run and change.”

“You’re not changed yourself, Mother,” Percy said gently.

Lady Blakeney looked down at her embroidered boudoir gown. “I am perfectly ready, Percy. It is you who must dress, I say.”

Clearly, in Lady Blakeney’s eyes, she was dressed in her finest evening gown. She reached up to touch her hair, which had been put into a simple plait by her maid, but which to Lady Blakeney’s fingers apparently seemed as if it were coifed and powdered as elaborately as anyone had ever seen. She gazed once again out of the window.

Then her eyes focused on her son and she smiled sweetly. “Why, Percy, I am glad to see you. You entered the room so quietly that I did not hear you. Give your mother a kiss.”

Percy kissed his mother’s cheek and then buried his face in her shoulder. “Oh, Mother,” he murmured. “I love you so.”

 

II.

“Father,” said Percy, “I met a young lady when I was in Zürich last month.”

Sir Algernon gave his son an indulgent smile. They were breakfasting in the morning room at the front of the _palazzo_ to which Lady Blakeney had taken a fancy and which Sir Algernon had subsequently rented for a year. The windows overlooked the Venetian Lagoon, upon which gondolas could be seen already sailing, their gondoliers transporting produce to market or early-rising gentlemen on their business.

“Well, tell me about her,” said Sir Algernon.

“Her name is Hortense. She’s a dancer.”

“Demme,” said Percy’s father. “You can’t take up with a dancer, Percy, I protest. Have you enough pocket-money for the upkeep? Dancers are expensive, ’pon my word.”

“Father!” Percy flushed and gave his father a look of reproach. “I’m not—she isn’t—that is to say, my admiration for Hortense is of the purest nature. I am not _keeping_ her in any sense of the word.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, hear me out, my son. I don’t say there’s anything wrong with a gentleman enjoying time spent with the fairer sex. I’ve spent my share of time with the ladies. Only remember, you must be discreet, Percy. _Discretion,_ I say!”

“Father—” Percy swallowed. “Are you telling me that all this time, with Mother, you’ve been _enjoying time_ with ladies…”

“No.” Sir Algernon met his son’s eyes. “No, not since I married our mother, poor soul. But there’s nothing wrong with enjoying your youth, son. Only choose wisely. Will this lady be true to you while your liaison lasts?”

“It’s not a liaison, Father! I love her! I intend to ask for her hand in marriage.”

“Now see here, Percy, you can’t do that. You’re only eighteen.”

“I know, but if you give your permission, Father...”

“Well, I shan’t. You’re in no position to set up housekeeping. Not until you attain your majority. I won’t hear of it.”

Percy leapt to his feet. “Sir! You wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“If you cares for you, she’ll wait. But I want you marrying something more than a dancer, Percy. Do try to see the thing in a reasonable light.”

“I am perfectly reasonable, sir,” Percy said between clenched teeth. “I love Hortense and she loves me. I’ll prove you wrong…you’ll see.”

“Mayhap,” Sir Algernon said. “Or mayhap you’ll find it a passing fancy. I hope,” he said with sudden intensity, “that when you marry you will find the same binding affection and your mother and I have found. In sickness and health, for better or for worse…make sure you marry a lady, Percy, who will stay with you through all the good and bad, and by whose side you are willing to stay as well. You may think you love Hortense, but make sure you know. When you meet a woman you truly love, you’ll _know_.”

 

III.

“Your wife has given you a daughter,” the midwife told Sir Percy, placing a bundle of blankets into that gentleman’s arms.

“I’m sorry it’s not a son,” Marguerite said sleepily from the bed. “But la! She seems to be a fine child nonetheless.”

“Sons be damned,” Percy said, nestling the child into his arms. “She’s lovely, like her mother, and I could not be prouder.”

Marguerite smiled and let her eyes drift closed. 

“She is well?” Percy inquired of the midwife in a low voice, directing a glance toward his wife. She slept now, her golden hair spread across the pillow and a little smile on her face.

“Perfectly well, sir,” the midwife replied. “She’s only a bit tired, and that’s to be expected, as you well know.”

“Yes, I know. All right.” Percy turned his attention back to the infant in his arms. He bent his head and carefully kissed the child’s forehead before handing her back to the midwife. He bestowed a caress on his sleeping wife’s cheek and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

On the floor below, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Sir Antony Dewhurst sat sprawled in front of the fire in the library. Brandy had been liberally poured and both gentlemen were a little merry for it.

Percy entered the room and smiled broadly. “I have a daughter,” he said, and laughed aloud. “By gad, I have a daughter!”

Sir Andrew leapt to his feet. “I say, Percy, congratulations!”

Sir Antony had also risen to his feet, and came forward to wring his friend’s hand in sincere affection. “Her ladyship is well?” He inquired. “And the child is well?”

“Yes, yes, all is well.” Percy crossed to the table and splashed brandy into a glass. “Zounds, gentlemen! I invited you for a quiet card-party and this is how I host you! You should have gone home hours ago, when we sent for the midwife.”

“I’m sorry if you wished us away,” Sir Andrew said quickly. “I hope you did not find us intrusive. But I knew Suzanne would wish for news, and the drive is long back to London—I hoped you wouldn’t mind if we stayed until we had heard good news.”

“No, of course not, though I confess I’m bone-weary. It’s a trying business for a man well as a woman,” he expostulated, and his friends laughed.

“We’ll leave you,” Sir Antony professed, and he and Sir Andrew moved toward the door. 

Sir Percy followed them down the stairs to the great front door of the Richmond house. He shook hands once again with both gentlemen. “What a night!”

With reiterated congratulations, Sir Andrew and Sir Antony rode off into the quiet evening. Sir Percy turned and reentered the house, to go upstairs to once again to his wife and infant child.

 

IV.

“Marguerite,” murmured Sir Percy.

Marguerite turned her head, sleepily, and saw her husband’s eyes on her. His hair was tousled on the pillow and his face was a little flushed with sleep. The first light of dawn was just sending bright rays through the curtained windows.

She reached out and brushed the hair off his brow. “Good morning, my dear.”

He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her closer so he could kiss her. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you next to me.”

“Then you must have slept well for nigh on ten years.”

Marguerite laughed and kissed him again, her eyes soft.

He ran one hand over her nightdress, tugging on the soft silk, seeking her skin underneath. 

“Do you know,” she said between kisses, “how much I love you?”

“I have an inkling.” His succeeded in pulling away her nightdress. “For my part…” His hands moved slowly over her skin. “For my part, I adore you.”

Marguerite, her hands busy with his nightshirt, did not answer with words.


End file.
